The Unkindest Cut of All
by Bekah1218
Summary: Molly, Sherlock, and their children are having a holiday at Mycroft's. Wriggly things intrude upon their fun. Sherlolly


The Unkindest Cut of All

Sherlock Holmes was sat on the sofa, reviewing his Mind Palace for anything that needed re-organising. Whilst he mused, his wife of six years was bathing their two children and getting them ready for bed. He paid little attention to her talking to the children, knowing she liked to play games with them in the tub, so she could actually get them to stay in a bit longer to be sure they were good and clean (especially after the day they had spent in the wooded area of his brother's estate), and free of mud or other 'trophies' picked up out of doors. At least they had the place to themselves, and he didn't have to suffer his brother's 'lord-of-the-manor' attitude. Mycroft really was the most colossal arse sometimes!

He thought about making some tea- he knew that Molly would be busy for a while, so he sighed and strolled out to the kitchen and filled the kettle, absently scratching his head as he got out his favourite mug and added a tea bag and milk. He searched in the pantry and found a packet of ginger nut biscuits and added a few to the plate he then placed at the table. When the kettle switched off, he poured the hot water into his mug and sat down to enjoy an evening snack.

Hmm- Molly was taking longer than usual to get the children down for bed- he called upstairs and asked if he could help her with anything.

She replied, "Um, erm, no, love, it's all right, I'll be down shortly. Nothing to worry about. Just a bit of a mess to clean up here- they were having a lot of fun in the tub."

Of course, this reply got him immediately concerned, but he decided to wait a bit and see if she changed her mind and did need his help, after all. He finished his snack and went back into the living room and turned on the music system, finding one of his favourite violin concertos and listening with his eyes closed as he relaxed, keeping one ear attuned for his wife's voice. Then he unfortunately drifted off to sleep, having spent the day trekking in the afore-mentioned woods...

The next thing Sherlock knew, Molly came into the living room and flung herself into an overstuffed leather chair, and sighing, blew a piece of wet hair away from her face. She looked exhausted.

Seeing he was awake, she said grumpily, "Really! For what we pay in tuition, that day-care should really have sent home a warning. I know it's a very common thing, but head lice is just so- awful! I'm so tired after washing all our heads thoroughly with the lice shampoo. I really think you should, too, Sherlock, just as a precaution. I know that little kids spend a lot of time working around tables with their heads together, and these things spread like wildfire, but they are just so- icky!"

"What? H-head lice, you said? Why am I just hearing about this? Do you have more of the shampoo or do I need to fetch some more? " Sherlock answered, sitting up in such a hurry that his head spun briefly. He again scratched at his head, not noticing what he was doing, but Molly spied it.

"Sherlock! Let me check your head, you are scratching- has your head been itchy today?"

"Erm, maybe once or twice, but I do not get head lice, Molly! Preposterous!" her husband replied with an involuntary shiver.

"Nonetheless, come over here and let me see, right now! Now, Sherlock!" Molly said, sounding much fierce than her tiny frame would suggest. Not being a complete idiot, Sherlock went over to her and knelt in front of her on the carpet and bent his head toward her lap.

"Let me see- oh, I don't see any-yet- but you should definitely wash your hair. The bottle is on the counter. Leave the shampoo in for 10 minutes, then you may rinse. For now, don't put any other product in your hair- I know it gets unmanageable, but you'll just have to deal with it. Oh, I am so tired- I had to change their bed linens and put them in a separate bag to be treated, and spray the furniture in their room. This has been an awful evening!" she sighed, looking as if she would burst into tears any moment now.

"Molly, why on earth didn't you say you needed help? I'd have been there to help, you know. And Mycroft does have a housekeeper- where is she, by the by?"

"I know, I just feel so terrible that our children have contracted this. Claire is here and did help me, it's more just the horror factor, I think. I know it's not due to being dirty or anything like that, but it's just not very nice to deal with this, and on our holidays, too," she sniffed.

"Hush now, love, it'll be all right. Let me make you some tea- and did you want anything with it ? We have some ginger nuts and some regular digestives, or there is a scone left over from earlier today- I can warm that up-?" Sherlock asked, although he was getting a little anxious to wash his hair, but he knew Molly's welfare came first.

"Oh, some peppermint tea would be lovely, and the scone. Thank you so much, love, I'm sorry, it's just so-" began Molly

"Icky, I know- and that is the perfect word to describe the situation. I'll be right back. Now sit back and relax a bit, all right?" Sherlock answered and went out to the kitchen. He warmed the scone (alright, he warmed two of them, they looked delicious and he could not resist sweets when he had time) in the microwave and put it on a small plate, and took it into the drawing-room (Mycroft's house was the most ridiculous relic), complete with clotted cream and jam and cutlery.

"Now, love, come and eat something with me. Then I'll go up and have my shower and wash my hair. I take it you did yours already?" he asked her.

"Oh, goodness, no, I've been busy settling them down for the night, after the whirlwind of finding the lice, and getting their hair washed and such. I'm glad of one thing. Mary had warned me of the possibilities before Hamish started school, so I've had the items on hand for ages. At least I didn't have to run to the shops at this hour in the evening. Why do you ask?" Molly inquired.

"Well, then, why don't we have a shower together and then we can be sure we have each washed our hair properly, how does that sound?" Sherlock said softly, trying to be helpful.

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes, if you are trying to use this as an excuse for

hanky-panky-" Molly blurted out.

"Wh-what? No, Molly, honestly, I was only trying to help and maybe make sure we both get our hair done properly so we don't have to worry about it any more, I wasn't trying to- no! It was definitely not that!' Sherlock said defensively, running his hands through his hair, and then itching again and scratching a bit.

Molly just looked at him and pointed to the stairs- "March, mister!" so he did.

They finally got themselves washed, shampooed and ready for bed. The next day they were both tired, but relived they had found out about the infestation and treated it. The rest of their holiday went without incident, and back to Baker Street they went.

About ten days after the uproar, Molly was combing Charlotte's hair when she saw something running in her head. Horrified, she searched and found an adult louse. Frantically she went and searched through Hamish's head, too- and he was also re-infested. She repeated the process and as soon as Sherlock got home from the Met, she met him at the door, tapping her foot and handing him the bottle of shampoo.

Sherlock was thoroughly aghast. "You can't mean we have them again? This is not on- I can not have lice! I decline!"

Molly was not in the mood for this from her husband, of all the people she had to deal with tonight. "I swear, Sherlock, I will not hear another word- get yourself in there and wash your head- now!"

Sherlock went without another word. Molly sighed and started cleaning all the bedclothes and spraying the furniture. They both fell into bed that night, all out of sorts and itching.

Someone at school must not have treated their child, because Molly _knew _she had gone through everyone's hair with a nit comb and there were none left in her family's head to develop into adults. She phoned and told the school office about the re-infestation and that she was again treating everybody in the house. She even told Mrs. Hudson, who dutifully washed her hair in the shampoo, as well...

Ten days later- like clockwork, Hamish came home scratching his neck. Molly grabbed him and did an inspection right there in the sitting room of 221B. She decided once and for all, to be rid of this plague! She went to work on the children, then herself.

When Sherlock got back from a case down on the Embankment, his wife was standing there waiting with a pair of clippers in her hand. She was devoid of her long locks, as were both of their children. They all looked rather like shorn sheep... as he realised what she was going to propose, he started backing up, but she caught him and closed the door. She pointed to a kitchen chair placed where she could get at him from all sides. There was fire and brimstone in her lovely brown eyes.

Sherlock went quietly over to the chair and sat down, after leaving his suit jacket on Molly's chair in the sitting room. "Molly, do you think this is necessary- for me? I can make sure all my hair is tr-"

His tiny wife stopped him right in mid-word, her eyes flashing. She stepped forward and clicked the clippers' power on and said, "I'm not going to lie, this will hurt a lot, but it's the only way to help you."

~the end~

**A/N Written for a prompt by juldooz. I hope you liked it- I had fun with it, something I definitely did NOT have when we went through the same thing about thirty years ago! Please read and review. Thanks, ~joan**


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